


Bagoas

by Kahvi



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-28
Updated: 2007-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A stand-alone companion piece to my and <a href="http://roadstergal.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://roadstergal.livejournal.com/"><strong>roadstergal</strong></a>'s <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/reddwarfslash/189898.html">Alexander</a>. Written on the request of <a href="http://smaych.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://smaych.livejournal.com/"><strong>smaych</strong></a> as part of the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/15pairings/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/15pairings/"><strong>15pairings</strong></a> challenge.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Bagoas

**Author's Note:**

> A stand-alone companion piece to my and [](http://roadstergal.livejournal.com/profile)[**roadstergal**](http://roadstergal.livejournal.com/)'s [Alexander](http://community.livejournal.com/reddwarfslash/189898.html). Written on the request of [](http://smaych.livejournal.com/profile)[**smaych**](http://smaych.livejournal.com/) as part of the [](http://community.livejournal.com/15pairings/profile)[**15pairings**](http://community.livejournal.com/15pairings/) challenge.

He would show the goit. Rimmer would smegging well show Lister what kind of a man Alexander the Great really was. Alexander the Great; possibly the finest military commander in history, ruler of the entire civilized world before the age of 30; this outstanding man, gay? The Alexander the Great - that was two entire the's in there - a poofy queer? Not on Rimmer's life, or more accurately, death!

Rimmer would be the first to admit that sharing the memories of his past life with the rest of the crew might not have been the best advised thing he had ever done. How on Io could they possibly have appreciated them? None of them had ever collected anything, for example, unless you counted Cat's penchant for hoarding shiny objects, Lister's fine selection of various moldy coffee cups, and Kryten's admittedly impressive supply of cleaning products. For as long as he could remember, Rimmer had collected things obsessively. Stamps, telegraph pole photographs, engine numbers, miniatures. He was certain that this had something to do with his former life as Alexander the Great's chief eunuch, looking after his harem, but thankfully he had kept that particular piece of information to himself. The ridicule he had gotten from Lister for merely rejecting the absurd idea of Alexander's homosexuality was more than enough. The grotty little bastard relished any opportunity for making Rimmer miserable, and Kryten's balmy so called 'historical facts' had given him a field day. Well, Rimmer would soon show him. He would show them all!

Finding the cartridge had been such a stroke of luck that Rimmer was still pinching himself even as he was inserting it into the AR machine. So his goited crew-mates liked historical facts, did they? Well, Rimmer would smegging well provide them! A historically accurate and thoroughly researched epic study of the life of Alexander the Great, the game's cover had stated boldly. Rimmer had picked it up in the gaming room of an abandoned cruise ship they had raided, and had kept it hidden in his quarters for the weeks it had taken him to jury-rig the AR system to record sessions, because this entire exercise would be pointless without proof. He had been in a state of constant paranoia that someone would find the it the whole time, but the cartridge had miraculously escaped even Kryten's weekly all-day cleaning binges. Now the dark purple triangular shape slotted itself perfectly into the machinery, and Rimmer gave a silent 'whoop' of triumph. All that remained was for him to don the various peripherals and plug himself in. Adjusting his helmet, he felt a surge of excitement. Yes, he was here to prove a point, but getting to meet the man in person, as it were, even if it was just a simulation? What a reunion it would be! Slipping his gloves on, Rimmer gave a vicious grin, and entered the game.

 

* * *

 

The tent wasn't quite as impressive as Rimmer had imagined, which was disappointing in a dull sort of way. Of course, he knew the tents they actually used back in Alexander's day were even more simple and squalid than this one, but nevertheless it seemed, in some way, unworthy of the man he knew to be inside. Preparing himself, Rimmer made a motion to adjust his uniform, which he of course was not wearing anymore. He looked down, inspecting himself critically. Not bad. He was dressed in some sort of toga arrangement, not that Rimmer was any expert on the fashions of any era. The garment consisted of white-ish, rather fine fabric, wrapped around his waist and torso in interesting ways. Since he didn't know how it was supposed to fit, he would have to give it the benefit of the doubt, Rimmer decided, straightening his back. This was it. He was not surprised to feel a slight tingling in his groin, rather like when he'd won a particularly rousing game of RISK, or had just acquired a rare and sought after diesel-engine number. It did feel slightly... different from usual though, and had he not been so elated, Rimmer might have paused to ponder that peculiarity. Elated he was, however, and so merely walked towards the tent briskly, not giving it another thought.

Rimmer's hand was shaking as he pulled the curtain aside. Part of it was anticipation, of course, but he had also acquired a healthy distrust of AR games since that whole 'Better Than Life' fiasco. Oh, they were supposed to be harmless fun and perfectly safe, but 'perfectly safe' in marketing speech, Rimmer had often found, often meant 'probably won't kill you right away, probably'. Of course, Rimmer was already dead, but his hard-light body had been an unexpected blessing, and he was rather desperate not to loose it, really. He peered into the room. A smell of incense hit him square in the nose, making him want to sneeze. That would not be a pleasant first-impression, so Rimmer tried to squeeze his nostrils shut by sheer force of will, and stepped fully inside.

The room was lit by a number of lanterns hanging here and there, the light playing softly on what little furniture there was; a table, a number of cushions piled elegantly in the corner, a couple of chairs. It also illuminated the features of the four leanly muscled men leaning over the table, pointing at a map laid out there and discussing eagerly in low voices. As one, they turned to look at Rimmer. "Erm..." he began, suddenly feeling terribly exposed. The fact that he was only wearing what amounted to a flimsy bed-sheet did not help matters.

One of the men, bare-chested, with an ornate loin-cloth sort of affair, seemed to be giving Rimmer a particularly nasty look, his eyes practically leaping across the room to attach themselves to Rimmer's retinas. Without looking away, he waved a hand dismissively. "Leave us," he yelled, a startling contrast to the muted conversation that had been going on. Instinctively, Rimmer's legs began to move, prepared to propel him out of there, but before they could do so, the three other men bowed their heads, and hurried out. Rimmer looked at them as they passed him by on either side, his mouth open in astonished surprise. Then he looked ahead, and was again attacked by those commanding eyes.

A metaphorical light bulb lit. "Alexander?" Rimmer jumped a little as his voice came out – it sounded different; too high, too reedy. Well, of course, these games would do that; use your basic physical form, but adjust it to fit the character you were... he swallowed. Smeg. It really was a fantastic game – the characters on offer had been overwhelming, and when Rimmer had seen that he could actually enter it as someone listed as 'Bagoas, Alexander's chief eunuch,' he had, of course, jumped at the chance. Only now did the inevitable consequences of that choice fully hit him. His right hand twitched, wanting to reach out to his groin, but how on Io would that look?

The man who was undoubtedly Alexander the Great kept his eyes on Rimmer, and then, with surprising speed and agility, leaped across the table, crossed the room, and grabbed Rimmer in a fierce embrace. Flabbergasted, Rimmer held his hands out to his sides, stiffly, not knowing what to do with them. Alexander was holding him tight, his hands rubbing up and down his back, and Rimmer felt that tingling in his groin again. This time, it did disturb him just a little. Surely that was not a natural reaction to being hugged by another man, even if it was someone he had admired since childhood? The embrace seemed to go on forever, and Rimmer's arms were getting tired by the time Alexander finally withdrew, and astonishingly, took Rimmer's face in his hands. "My beautiful Bagoas," he sighed, stroking Rimmer's cheek. "You were away too long."

"I..." Rimmer began, then winced at his own voice. It was all very emasculating. He rolled his eyes at that thought. Well, no wonder!

Alexander smiled, his strokes lengthening, reaching Rimmer's hair, his fingers playing with Rimmer's curls. They too, felt different, and Rimmer looked around instinctively for a mirror. He didn't like it when people messed with his hair, and he certainly didn't like not knowing what his hair looked like. A polished bronze shield, presumably purely decorative, adorned the wall opposite, and Rimmer craned his neck to look into it. He caught a brief glimpse of wild, untamed curls, and groaned. There was a reason why he used to spend a significant amount of his pay on hair products. The image was soon replaced by Alexander's curious expression, however, when the man gently pushed Rimmer's face towards him. "You seem ill at ease, dear one. Has something upset you?"

Dear one? What kind of a thing was that to call your close friend and confidant? At least, Rimmer thought with some relief, it was becoming clear that Kryten's memory banks were as batty as the mechanoid himself; Alexander was clearly not gay. You couldn't look this manly and be gay. Still, as far as looks went, Rimmer was surprised. This man didn't look at all like the man he had seen in his past-life memories. That man, though the memories were not all that clear, was shorter and stocker, darker skinned, his hair cropped very short, not half-long and girly, like this one wore his. The curls were right, but they should be tighter. The nose was all wrong too, it seemed to Rimmer. It should be smaller, perhaps even slightly up-turned. Rimmer stared at him, frowning, and Alexander stared back.

"Let me ease your mind." Before Rimmer could react, Alexander had pressed his lips against his, and then proceeded to lick them teasingly, and at this point Rimmer's groin was doing rather more than just tingling, which he didn't even think was possible, in this body. Nevertheless, he seemed to be getting an erection.

"There must have been some sort of mistake," Rimmer tried to say, but the words got lost between lips and tongues and saliva, and moans that sounded suspiciously like his own. He was horrified to find that he was actually enjoying this! But why? As Alexander licked his way down Rimmer's neck and chest, it hit him, sickeningly. Lister. That perverted little bastard and his constant tampering with the AR system to get his sex-cheats in! The thing must be permanently set to 'orgy' now, turning every innocent program into a sex-fest. It was probably seeping into his bee, making Rimmer enjoy it, too. Well, Rimmer wouldn't stand for it. All he had to do was clap his hands together, and he would be out of this homoerotized nightmare. The problem was that at the moment, his hands were being held apart in the firm, unyielding grip of a man that was most definitely Rimmer's superior both mentally and physically, simulation or not.

Some confusing moments of being pushed around later, Rimmer found himself lying on his back on that soft pile of cushions. Alexander stood before him, what little clothes he was wearing failing utterly to conceal his significant erection. Rimmer panted, watching that bulge, mirroring the tenting of his own garments. That did it; this had to be one of those blasted cheat-programs at work. Eunuchs couldn't have sex; that was the entire point of them!

"It's not real," Rimmer mumbled to himself as Alexander got down on his knees, and working some fastening or other off, so that his garments fell to the floor, revealing a glistening, impressive cock, pointed right at Rimmer's face. "It's not real, it's not real..." But real or not, it was oddly... appealing. Rimmer's mouth opened, as though of its own accord, his tongue darting out between his lips uncertainly.

Alexander laughed. "Not tonight. I have something else in mind."

What? Rimmer's mind screamed; what?? the thought did not make it as far as his vocal cords though, and soon he was being turned around forcefully, strong hands lifting up his toga, and by that point there really wasn't much point in asking. He had to get out of there. He really, really had to get out of there, but there was no room for him to move his hands. Rimmer tried to clap them together behind his back, but all they made contact with was strong, wiry arms, moving lazily. Then there was the smell of oil, and a wet, sort of splotch-y sound that went on for rather a long while. And then...

It was almost impossible to describe. There was pain, certainly, but not a whole lot of it. Mostly, there was an almost unbearable sense of fullness. It struck Rimmer that having what had to be that impressive organ he'd just seen stuck up his ass should hurt a hell of a lot more, but somehow it didn't. That had to be the game again; him, but not him. His body, but not. This body was clearly used to this sort of thing. He should perhaps, Rimmer thought, be thankful for small favors. Then the fullness moved – impossibly – even further in, hitting a spot along the way that made Rimmer stop thinking entirely for a few blessed seconds.

"Oh sodding smeg!

Behind him, Alexander laughed again, gripping Rimmer's hips tightly. "Lovely boy," he mumbled, making Rimmer twist his head round in surprise.

"Boy? I'm hardly..." Rimmer squeaked, cursing the voice that belied his words. Alexander could not possibly be older than twenty five. What was being done to Rimmer was making it hard for him to concentrate, however. Alexander's thrusts were pushing Rimmer against the pillows, his impossible erection rubbing against a particularly large one located near his groin. "I'm not..." he began to protest again, feeling Alexander's cock slam up against that delicious spot over and over, leaving him breathless and weak. It was almost too good; Rimmer was shocked he hadn't come yet. It usually took him less than a minute, if the stimulation was as good as this. And frankly, Rimmer had to admit that nothing had ever felt quite as good as this did.

"Beautiful boy," Alexander moaned, slamming harder and harder into Rimmer's ass. With that hammering cock on one side, and the pillow of the other, Rimmer was soon lost in a morass of delicious sensation; gasping helplessly into the pillows for breath he did not need.

"Damn you, Listy," he wailed, coming with ferocity, biting pillows and spitting fragments of fabric. The pounding did not stop, and it prolonged the orgasm to an extent Rimmer would not have thought possible. "Listy..." he squeaked again, the word stuck in his mind now. Eventually, Alexander came with a moan and a shudder, and soon his cock slithered out of Rimmer, the head catching painfully.

Collapsing into a shuddering heap, it took all of Rimmer's reserves of strength to roll onto his back, bringing his hands together in a clap without even daring to open his eyes until he felt his body return to the relative normality of hard light. Tearing off his helmet, gloves and sodding twice-smegged groinal peripheral, Rimmer stumbled off the platform and out the door, running down the corridor to his quarters as fast as his shaking legs would carry him. Sod Lister! Sod him and his goited cheat programs making everything all sordid and pervy, and making Alexander look all wrong. Sod him. Sod him to smegging hell!

Half an hour later, he realized he'd left the cartridge in the machine, and ran back to get it. That had been a close one.

 

* * *

 

"What d'ya make of that, then?" Lister pointed to the AR interface-screen, where a large, bright red error message was flashing.

"Let me have a look, sir." Kryten shuffled closer. "Template already in buffer. I see."

"What?" Lister shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. He'd just come off his cockpit shift, and he was bored out of his skull. If the AR machine was broken, he didn't know what he'd do. There was always Rimmer to pull a practical joke on, now that he was corporeal again, but the hologram's moods had been abysmally poor these days. There really was no point in making them even worse, thus inviting even more sarcasm and bile on the rare occasions they had a shift together.

"There is a recoding of a previous session already loaded. The machine can only fit one program at a time – it's memory is full."

"You can record AR sessions?" Lister frowned at the display.

"Certainly. It's in the manual."

"There's a manual?"

Kryten coughed politely. "This, I fear, might explain a whole host of things, sir. At any rate, someone must have recorded themselves in a game, and forgotten to transfer it out of the machine's memory." He shook his head. "Very sloppy."

As Kryten pushed a few buttons, Lister chewed his lip. "Who, though? I haven't been in here since yesterday."

"Don't look at me," Kryten chuckled, "I've been scrubbing the cargo-bay doors all afternoon." He flicked a switch, and the flashing message gave way to a menu. "There. Would you like to delete the recording?"

The screen was chock-full of writing and posing men in togas and various bits of armor. "Hang on... I've never seen this one before." He walked a little closer, peering at the images. "What happens if I play the recording back?"

"Well, then you would experience the same sequence of events as the person who originally played it, without being able to change anything."

Lister snorted. "Doesn't sound like much of a game."

Kryten hesitated, his finger on the keyboard. "So you would like me to delete it then, sir?"

"Nah. I'll have a go. See what was so good someone felt they had to record it." He stepped into the AR-cage, and started connecting himself. Really, it could only have been one person who had recorded this, and Lister was curious. Be good for a laugh, no doubt!

"There is a choice of characters, sir." Kryten pointed at the screen.

"I thought you said ya couldn't change anything." Lister snapped the groinal-peripheral shut, and looked around for the gloves. Funny. They were on the floor, like someone had just thrown them there.

"Not in terms of action, no, but it is possible to view the events through the eyes of any in-game character."

Lister glanced at the list. "That's a smegging mile long! Just give me the default." He picked up the helmet, and started fitting it to his head.

"That would be Alexander the Great, sir." He looked at the read-out. "The run will take half an hour. I'll back to collect you before dinner."

"Good man, Krytes." Grinning, Lister strapped his helmet on, and entered the game. Yeah, this'd be good for a laugh.


End file.
